


If my blood wasn't spilled tonight

by KatAnni



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Battle of Five Armies, F/M, Family Relationships - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Inspired by The Hobbit, No Slash, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Ravenhill, Whump, Wounded Legolas, hurt!legolas, lots of blood tho, mentions of Thranduil's wife - Freeform, my fav kind of legolas lmao, nothing explicit so no slash or other things, worried!Thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatAnni/pseuds/KatAnni
Summary: A scenario where instead of pulling off an impossible stunt, Legolas gets badly wounded at Ravenhill. It's going to contain Legriel (LegolasxTauriel), lots of worried Daddy Thranduil, and obviously hurt!Legolas. Lots of Angst. No Character Death (except canon..ones). Lots of Blood though.





	1. Blood in his bright Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Another imported story from my ff net account. This one's from 2016 and I can notice how I improved in my writing. I must say that I'm not as much into Legriel anymore but I will post this to complete what I did write with them. I think it's a v cool thought at least to have them be a thing :).

****

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**Chapter 1 - Blood in his bright hair**

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Tauriel couldn’t believe this had happened. Tears streamed down her face as she held Kili in her arms. Why? She had tried her hardest to prevent this and it seemed by being there, she had only sped up the process. He had come to protect her, in the end. What had happened to her being the strong _elleth_ that could hold her own against an army of orcs? It couldn’t be that this one was that much stronger, was it?

Then again, she had left Legolas to fight him anyway. After falling down the stairs in her desperate attempt to kill Bolg, she had awoken to the sight of Legolas crashing a tower to get to her. After a second of being completely bewildered at the view that presented itself to her, she shook off the trance and picked herself off the ground. The fall had been painful but she had survived and in that moment, nothing else was more important than to check if maybe Kili was still alive after all. She stumbled up the stairs and out of view of Legolas but checked on him one last time before disappearing. He held himself nicely against Bolg and his makeshift bridge seemed to serve his purpose well.

Normally, she would help him without a second thought. But today, after seeing so much pain and also feeling so much just while walking, she wasn’t so sure if she could be of any use to him at all. Her body felt stiff and grief was already nagging at her as she approached Kili’s body.

Even though they hadn’t known each other for long, he had grown close to her heart. She didn’t know what the bond entailed entirely. But the tears in her eyes that made their way down her cheeks were such a rare occurrence that she thought maybe it was love after all. The _elleth_ had knelt down, closed the dwarf’s eyes and gave him the rune stone back into his hand. In the back of her mind, behind all the thoughts about how he would never return to his mother now and how sad and cruel this all was, she wondered why Legolas wasn’t back yet. He should be here by now. Normally, killing one orc shouldn’t take so long. Then again, maybe he had returned to the battle field after. But… it wasn’t really like him to not check on Tauriel first. That thought alone brought enough distraction to her mind that she smiled through her tears. Even if Kili was gone and it was cruel, Legolas would always be there. It was something that she never actually pondered about if she was honest. Elves were immortal so meeting Kili had been the first time she really thought about how complicated a relationship could be based on two beings that didn’t have the same life span. _Do you think she could have loved me?_ Kili’s words floated in her head and while she held him, she decided: _Yes. But not in the way that you would have liked…_

And just when she was getting a little worried about her prince, she heard steps approaching, quiet, careful steps that could only belong to an elf of Legolas’ height and weight.

“Tauriel. Here you are. I feared you had fallen down that cliff…” the worry was very present in his voice but also the relief upon seeing her. But why was he so hoarse? Had Bolg hit him in the throat?

“Yes, I’m fine.” She whispered, but he could hear her still, with his keen elven ears. Her tone was a bit dismissive. Sure, she was fine. Kili wasn’t. Through her tears, she looked up and spotted him in the doorway that separated the sunlit part of the ruins from the ones that still had a roof. He stood in the shadows, so with her teary eyes and the shadows covering him, it was almost impossible for her to see him. But she did spot his strange stance and how he leaned heavily onto the side of that pillar. And that his breathing wasn’t as silent as it usually was…

Slowly, Tauriel whipped her tears away with her arm and put Kili down carefully, as if not to disturb him in sleep even though she knew nothing could wake him now. But something was wrong with Legolas and she felt it, deep down.

“Legolas?” she asked carefully. Something was wrong with him and a tingling sensation of pain settled in her heart. She somehow knew that something was amiss and she was broken out of trance completely now, staring at her companion. Upon hearing his name, he looked up and without saying anything, he took another step forward.

“Legolas, are you al- _by the Valar_!” she had just been about to ask if he was okay when the sunlight finally didn’t hide him in the shadows any more. As the prince stepped forward, the first thing Tauriel saw was all the blood. Too much blood, and how Legolas held his torso, no, clutched at it, trying to keep the scarlet liquid from escaping his body any further. He had abandoned his support at the pillar and the _elleth_ could see his knees getting weak from the simple effort of standing upright.

Immediately, Kili was forgotten. The sight before her was something she had never seen before. A gravely wounded and dead-on-his-feet Legolas and the sight itself instilled much more panic than she ever thought to be possibly felt in one day. Sure, he had been wounded before but she dismissed those memories quickly, for they would not help her here. This wasn’t anything she’d ever seen and she needed to help him this instant. Silently, she wondered how he even made it this far with a wound that deep…

She practically jumped up, ignoring all the pain in her own body, and was just in time to support him when he was about to fall to his knees. Just now, she could spot that the wound on his chest wasn’t the only one. He had a nasty bump on his head with a deep cut to it on his forehead, blood crusting the left side of his face and part of his bright hair. With her slight support he leaned on a pillar with his back, his knees weren’t able to let him stand up any more.

_“Legolas.”_ She whispered his name in an attempt to get his attention. He was still clutching his chest and his hand was already covered in blood, as was the whole front of his dark tunic. It especially stood out on the white shirt he was wearing underneath, where it seemed to glow even more, drilling her shock even further. The panic in her ran only deeper when she saw how upon seeing her alive and well, he had apparently lost the strength to stand and his eyes were now rapidly getting heavier.

“He is dead?” Legolas was glancing over at Kili almost sadly, then back at Tauriel. The _elleth_ nodded but her mind couldn’t really pay attention to the dead dwarf any more. “I am sorry…”, Legolas whispered. She then shook her head, quickly dismissing his words. What was he being sorry for? It’s not like it was his fault…He shouldn’t talk, really shouldn’t…Without hesitation she took over the job his hands were doing themselves and applied pressure to his wound, getting her own hands soaked in his life blood. At the same time, she tried to calm down her racing, panicked heart. He would be fine. He would be fine…Legolas would be just fine! Please, she couldn’t lose him too, not him…

“What happened? I thought you almost had him. I would not have left you alone with him.” She looked up into his ice blue eyes, worry getting deeper and deeper. The prince winced, but still smiled somehow, an ironic laugh escaping his lips. Tauriel noticed how his normally pink lips were pale and also had blood on them. The captain of the guard felt her hands shake. This wasn’t good, not good at all. No, he was going to be okay. He had to.

“I gave Thorin my sword and his opponent fell down on the bridge. Bolg took advantage when I had to avoid the drop. His mace had a blade at the end…” he paused to swallow. It suddenly looked like work and Tauriel frowned, then her eyes darkened. That was the blade Kili was stabbed with too. And he was dead…she glanced over to the dwarf and closed her eyes momentarily. She wanted to punch something. One orc, one filthy orc had hurt both of them. But her thoughts were interrupted when Legolas continued “Still, I managed to stab him in the head but the bridge collapsed. I almost fell with him, smashed my head-“ he made a vague gesture towards the bleeding forehead and Tauriel noticed how he also favored one of his shoulders while moving. “but I was fortunate to find something to hold on to. He fell nonetheless, so do not fret. He is dead.” The prince assured her.

But the tears in Tauriel’s eyes weren’t because of fear of the orc. It was a combination of frustration, panic, worry and rage that brought them to surface. She brushed the bloody and messy hair from his face and shook her head quickly.

“I am not worried about him, I am worried about you!” she finally gasped, after trying to calm her heart by holding her breath. It didn’t help. She had ripped off a part of her own clothes to help with the pressure but the damn wound wouldn’t stop bleeding, even after she bound it. Legolas winced in pain. Like he had said, it was a stab wound from a long blade, an orc knife nonetheless, so the blade had been wide and probably not very clean. If not poisoned! And his breathing was so very flat and rattling… Oh no, no no no…

“Yes indeed…I miscalculated. I am sorry, Tauriel. My only thought was to get him away from you. I did not know…” he glanced over to Kili’s body but Tauriel shook her head. The fact that he wasn’t denying her, that he wasn’t assuring her he was fine and that she shouldn’t worry…that alone spiked her panic even more.

A noise interrupted them. Far, far over their heads, eagles appeared in the south and they were flying in the direction the other orcs had come from. Smiling, she looked to Legolas. He too, was glancing at the sky, relieved. This could mean the battle would turn. They both saw Radagast and another person ride the eagles. Reinforcements. Tauriel remembered how Thranduil had wanted to gather his forces and leave Dale just mere hours ago and she made a decision.

“Come now, I have to get you to the healers down in Dale.  I hope your father has not redrawn completely yet. We certainly do not have time for this discussion. Please try and get up, _ernil-nin_.” He would not die up here, on Ravenhill alone with Tauriel. Who was not a healer. Sure, removing poison from a leg with a wound that was almost healed (with the right herbs one might note) but something this close to his heart, fresh and still oozing blood? And she didn’t have any strength left herself, still stiff and sour from the fight and fall. And there weren’t any herbs around here…she really didn’t have much of an option.

But Legolas refused, laying a calming hand on hers when she tried to rise him.

“We are not going to get all the way down there and you know that well. I just desired to…” his voice broke and Tauriel noticed the sweat on his forehead. She felt the blood between her fingers and more tears made their way down her cheek. No…this couldn’t be happening. Was she having a nightmare? Was someone toying with her here?

Gently, his fingers brushed away the loose strands of her red hair. The way he looked at her….her green eyes met his ice blue ones and she felt her heart ache even more. This wasn’t the panic she felt when Kili was dying. This was worse. So much worse. She would never in her entire eternal life have assumed that he would get hurt. In her eyes, he was still invincible like he had been when they first met as little elflings. Legolas was a part of her, they were together almost all the time, he couldn’t just…No, he couldn’t. Her lips trembled and she sniffed, averting his gaze and tried to remember the chanting for healing. She should at least try. She closed her eyes for a second while remembering.

The lines flew back into her memory now. She put her hand on his and pressed it lightly. Then she breathed in deeply and began chanting, both hands over the wound. In the distance, another situation appeared in her head. He had been hurt then as well and she hadn’t remembered the words. Right now the Sylvan was very glad that she had forced herself to learn it after that. Slightly opening her eyes, she looked if it was helping at all. Slowly, very slightly, the bloodflow seemed to lessen. But the blade really had been big. It had stabbed Kili through the heart too and he had been dead immediately. Sure, Legolas was bigger and the blade had missed his heart (plus, he was an elf) but it was still bad enough to be a mortal wound if not treated soon.

But she felt her strength leaving her already battered body. Warriors usually were no healers. She’d learned this as a child, when her mind was untouched by the filth of war…There wouldn’t be much healing left in her and she still had to get Legolas down this mountain…

“It is no use, Tauriel. Please, do not exhaust yourself over it. I…” he paused and Tauriel clenched her jaw. He was driving her insane. Had he already given up hope entirely?

He breathed in deeply and the sound his lungs made with that troubled Tauriel even deeper. He lifted his hand and even though they were covered in blood, he touched her cheek with it affectionately, cupping the side of her delicate face. His gaze was so different from what she was used from him and it broke her heart so much that she had to close her eyes so she wouldn’t collapse and fade right then and there. Her head leaned into his hand, lip quivering. Salty tears mixed with blood made their way down his hand. He didn’t even attempt to whip them away, the amount made that futile. When he started to speak again her eyes were still closed.

“I never really grasped the chance to tell you-”

“Stop talking, Legolas.” She suddenly interrupted him, ignoring all her training to always be polite and formal with royalty. It hadn’t really ever applied to their friendship anyway. So no, _no_ she was _not_ having this conversation. This was _not_ happening under her watch!

“I have to get you down this mountain, you are not going to die here! I will even get an eagle to fly you! So don’t you dare give up just like that.” Tauriel was starting to get mad. She wasn’t going to listen to this. This sounded like it was going to be a goodbye speech and she wasn’t having any of that. Legolas couldn’t die. He was the prince, he had a long, eternal life laid out in front of him. He had promise of happiness, a wife someday, a kingdom later. It wasn’t fit for him to be in this situation, to have dark blood caked in his bright blonde hair that looked so much like the king’s and his father’s before him. To not be fussed over by all the healers in the kingdom because their precious heir was injured. Tauriel had witnessed that once and wished that it would happen again because then there would be _hope_ …No! No, he was going to be fine! Her green eyes looked at him pointedly and she stood up, had finished putting on a second makeshift pressure bandage around his chest over the one that was already soaked. She took his forearm and put his shoulder around her neck, slowly helping him up.

“Tauriel, wait! I do not think this is a good id- AHH” his scream of pain didn’t startle Tauriel. After all it was logical to be in pain when he had to get up with a stab wound too close to his heart. Or any stab wound for that matter. Plus, Tauriel noted that his shoulder was dislocated when he tried to rise his arm to aid him up. She winced, feeling the pain with him in her heart.

What she didn’t count on was him getting limp in her arms and actually almost weighting her down. Immediately, the panic in her heart spiked.

“Legolas? _Legolas_!” breathing heavily, she set him down, reached for his neck, feeling for a pulse. It took too long, she thought her own heart would stop.

“No….no no no come on. Wake up.” She patted his cheek and wished so much to see his icy blue eyes again. There, a heartbeat. Oh thank all that was holy! She had thought she had lost him. Her hand brushed _his_ cheek now, peeled away a bit of blood from his forehead affectionately.

Out of nowhere, hasty footsteps were coming closer and she realized that Legolas’s scream may have attracted further enemies. They had no idea if there were more orcs on the mountain or coming up here. With a gulp her hand went to her weapon. She wasn’t in any condition to fight any more and they didn’t have time for this...she glanced to Legolas shortly, making sure the pressure bandage was still on. Then she got into a kneeling position, ready to defend him with her life from whoever was rounding the corner…

* * *

 

**Sindarin Translations**

_By the Valar - Bascially (roughly) 'Oh my god(s)'_

_Elleth - Female Elf_

_Ernil-nin - My prince_


	2. Blood on his fine Robe

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**Chapter 2 - Blood on his fine Robe**

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Thranduil stared down upon the battlefield. A frown adorned his royal face, testament of how much regret he felt. But his expression didn’t betray how deep this regret went. So many lives lost, so many elven blood wasted. He had sworn to protect his people and they had not prepared for this big an army. If he had known about the orcs he would never have come here. Not even the jewels of his lost wife could make up for all of this.

A sigh escaped his lips and he closed his blue-grey eyes, clearing his expression of that frown. Dale was quiet now, the battle in these parts was over. The surviving elves were tended to by the healers in their tents and Thranduil thought about their next steps when a guard approached him, bowing down before him. He had brown hair and as Thranduil recalled, his name was Gadordir, one of the youngest members of his guard. A short gladness that he was still alive went through his mind. The king knew all of his subjects and that made the losses of this day all the more grave. Every single elf on this road had a story, a place in his heart and he knew that coming to terms with their losses would be one of the hardest parts in the next months, maybe years or even decades. Sure, he was often perceived as distant and cold but he had learned that this was required to be a proper king. And it was required –for him at least- so he did not fade completely.

“I have a report to make, my Lord. _Aiwendil_ is coming to join the battle with the Eagles from the south. It could mean a turn of the tides.” He stood up straight again, awaiting Thranduil’s reaction patiently.

“I see. Then we shall depart soon. The great eagles will be more than enough to determine our victory. Enough elven blood has been shed today. Gather our forces and prepare for departure.” That of course included piling up the dead but he didn’t want to voice that thought. Also, Tauriel wasn’t here now to stand in his way again. They would depart this time. Her words still rang in his ears. He balled his fist and pursed his lips in anger, breathing out through his nose to calm himself. The soldier was about to depart when Thranduil stopped him.

“Oh and send for Legolas. I have to speak with him.” He added as an afterthought. After that incident with Tauriel and him he wished to discuss this with his son. There was a place for stubbornness and defending the _elleth_ that openly attacked and insulted him was not it. The king simply assumed that the pair of them was back with the troops by now. He would have to deal with both of them…He was dragged from his thoughts when the guard was still present, apparently suddenly nervous.

“M-my Lord?”

“What is it now?” he asked, sounding cooler than he had meant to. Then again that was almost out of his control these days.

“The prince, he…he has not returned from Ravenhill yet, my Lord. Tauriel either. Should I still prepare for departure?” he asked. For a second, Thranduil’s eyes widened. Then, with a deep breath and closed eyes he shook his head slightly. It was enough a gesture to be understood though.

“No. We will not depart before my son is not with us. But you shall-“

Suddenly, a pain shot through his heart so sudden he almost tumbled over. It was like a pang of numbness passing right though his core. For a second he thought an arrow had hit him. He grabbed his chest but nothing was there. His eyes wide, he realized that it wasn’t his body that had been injured. The pain was in his mind, no, his heart. The king hadn’t felt anything like this since…

“ _No…_ ” he whispered. The guard seemed alarmed by his actions. He had come closer and hovered before him.

“My lord?” he asked. Thranduil didn’t hear him. His eyes were wild, his mind racing. The pain had been spiked by a connection he hadn’t felt consciously for a long time.

“Legolas…” the _ellon_ breathed. Clarity returned to his mind and he stared Gadordir directly in the eyes. The elf backed up a few paces, clearly shocked and intimidated but determined to hold his ground anyway.

“Prepare our best healers for an emergency. Bring me a medical bag. And I need two horses. Fast ones.” His voice held as much authority as he could muster and detecting the urgency the guard was gone within a second. It didn’t take long to get the horse with a medical bag and clean bandages and Thranduil was on his mount before anybody could ask what was going on. He held his kingly composure but inside, his heart was racing. The second mount would be for Legolas. Because he kept telling himself that yes, he would be in a state to ride home on his own. Everything else was unacceptable. But the pang in his chest…

You have to know, Elves have connections, strong emotional bonds to each other or some to nature. As Thranduil was king of the Greenwood, he had a connection with the forest. He felt its darkness growing every day and was probably the only thing keeping it from completely dying. There had been a connection with his wife as well and her death he had felt like his own. He tried to bury the weight of that memory every single day but little things still brought it back and it didn’t get any lighter over all these years.

And Legolas…oh Legolas. He was so much like her in some ways it pained him sometimes. There were days he couldn’t even look at his own son because of it. Ever since his mother’s death, Thranduil had been more and more distant a father. Of course he was aware of that. And maybe he had only himself to blame for his offspring’s rebellious streak lately.

Still, Legolas was his son. And losing him was his worst nightmare. He was the only thing even keeping him in these lands. He might already have faded from grief or sailed if not for him. The woods were growing dark, he wasn’t strong enough to hold the spiders and orcs and other filth back much longer. But Legolas would succeed him and he was stronger than Thranduil had been in a long, long time. Legolas had spirit and promise, wonder and kindness. This pang in his heart just now couldn’t mean anything good. In fact, as he rode to that mountain at full speed, he feared for the very worst. The bond with his son had been dormant inside him, he barely visited it nowadays. In fact, he had cut himself off from any bond for that matter, maybe even the one with the forest. He had given up, realized that his inner borders were the only ones worth protecting. That the forest may be a lost cause. Today, he realized for the first time what a fool he had been for those actions.

His thoughts were with the last conversation he had with his son. It had been an argument and there were so many things he still needed to say… so many he regretted and only now thought about. What if he was too late and could never resolve them?

Dismounting his horse when he reached the frozen water, he took a path that led him to the other side on which his horse couldn’t follow. The Elven King took the medicine pouch upon his broad shoulder and told the mounts to wait for him there and they would, like any of the elven horses these ones were just as loyal and intelligent. A short pain went through his heart as he mourned his lost mount, the mighty elk. He had hoped to be its companion for many more years to come.

As soon as he reached the ruins on the other side, his keen ears heard a scream that ran through him like a second knife in that short span of time. That was Legolas. That was his son, screaming out in pain. Oh please no... His fast walk changed into a run, which was very unlike him but he couldn’t help himself. Finally, he reached the open space where the scream came from, sword out and prepared for a fight, and saw Tauriel in attack position facing him. He lowered his sword, not spotting any enemies. The person next to her…

“By the stars, Legolas!” he immediately fell to his knees –also very unlike him- and totally ignored the completely bewildered Tauriel. There was a bloody handprint on her cheek and she looked dirty and battered but fine. So his focus wasn’t on the former captain but on his son, lying upon the stones of this mountain and it just felt wrong. Blood on his chest, his forehead, his hair, his face…Thranduil never wanted to see this much blood on his little leaf and it made his heart ache so much he could have doubled over just from that feeling alone. His robes fell around him in a dramatic way and his hand went for Legolas’ neck, feeling the weak but present pulse. Immediately he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and swung the pouch from his shoulder. The king wondered in panic why he hadn’t brought one of the healers with him. He realized they had their hands full with other wounded, but right now he would prefer one of them here by his son’s side, maybe a selfish thought. The pain in his heart had been so sudden and the drive to rush to his son’s side so urgent that he hadn’t even thought this through properly. Maybe a part of him had hoped that the pain Legolas transferred unintentionally had been emotional…not that that was much better. His rashness could get Legolas killed…

Thranduil tried to calm his mind quickly. He tried to remember his medical training, reaching for the strength deep within him. Thranduil had never been a good healer. The stench of war pressed on his _fea_ and corrupted it enough to make healing almost impossible. Plus, healing required compassion and it was hard to feel compassion and hide it at the same time. So most of the time, he left the work to his healers. And he really should have brought one of them, even if they were busy. However, this was not a time to pay attention to masks. He would gladly give up his reputation and even his own heart if it meant Legolas could live. Briefly, he wondered how long he had been here, bleeding and how he had gotten over here in the first place when this was obviously not the spot where the fight took place. But he did not dare ask, not wanting to spike his worry and panic even further. The ancient words soon fell from his lips and he felt his own strength poor into his son. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. He could detect damage beyond his abilities, a darkness that shouldn’t be inside his own flesh and blood and it made his breath spike. But the bleeding had stopped for now and the king decided to quickly bandage it properly and make a fast way back to Dale. For his son wouldn’t have a chance otherwise.

His quick fingers took out a potion for pain and clean bandages. A healing paste for wounds was applied after taking off the makeshift bandage, then he pressed one clean bandage against the giant wound and used the other to wrap around Legolas’s chest tightly, hopefully binding the bleeding further.

“Why did he scream?” he asked in a quiet, almost hoarse voice but he saw that Tauriel was very tense in his presence. He was sure she heard him quite well.

“I tried to lift him up to get him down to Dale. He refused and when I did, he lost consciousness. I..I think his shoulder is dislocated.” She stated matter of factly but Thranduil had seen her tears, saw her panic. A short glance behind her told him there had been another death. He just couldn’t help his next comment while he tended to Legolas’ wounds. The bitterness of their argument was still too fresh in his mind.

“Shouldn’t you be mourning your dwarf?” he asked. Tauriel’s hands tensed into fists but she didn’t argue. She had obviously learned that sometimes words were a waste of time. She looked down and her green eyes instead focused on Legolas, worry clearly swimming in them.  Thranduil’s gaze softened. Clearly, she was in pain and the king –however much he wanted it to not be this way- knew how that felt. Knew what she was going through. So he gave her a short nod of apology, which she seemed astonished about but nodded in return, short and with a still quivering lip while the king turned back to his son, lifting his chin lightly with two fingers.

 _“Ion-nîn. Echui là.”_ He touched Legolas’ cheek again, this time a bit firmer. To his delight, the young _ellon_ responded.

 _“Ada?”_ he asked, his icy blue eyes fluttering open. He seemed to recognize his voice. Good. Thranduil suddenly noticed how long he hadn’t been called that and smiled a little. But this wasn’t the situation for nostalgia. Oh by the _Valar_ there was so much blood here…

“Yes, Legolas. We will have to move you. But first, who did this?” he asked. Remaining his outer coldness was the only thing keeping him from collapsing right now. Legolas didn’t seem to notice anything off. He also seemed to try and pull himself together at the sight of his father. Thranduil wasn’t surprised. The king had never given his son much room for weaknesses. Deep down this filled him with sadness but he couldn’t do anything about it right now.

“Bolg. He’s dead.” He explained. Good. At least he didn’t have to go after the filth for vengeance. On the other hand, he might have enjoyed that a bit. But he shook the thought away and held the potion in his hand to Legolas’ lips.

“Here, drink this. It will help with the pain.” Legolas nodded slowly. His head hurt and he didn’t want to move it much. He drank the potion and was surprised when it also made him even sleepier than he had been before.

“ _Adar_ , what…?” but he didn’t get any farther, as he drifted off into dreamless sleep.

“What have you done?” Tauriel asked, alarm and slight anger in her voice.

“That is not your place to ask. He’s going to rest properly now. A potion to open passage for a healing sleep. The healers will have to do the rest. Take this.” He practically threw the medical bag at Tauriel, who caught it against her chest. The king leaned down to wrap his long ropes around his son as to keep him warm. Then he lifted Legolas from the ground with his arms, carefully adjusting him so his head rested on his shoulder. Finally his warm gaze for his son turned cold as he gazed upon Tauriel. The bloody handprint on her cheek made him furious somehow. He had been aware that Legolas had feelings for the elleth but this clear evidence that he caressed her cheek while injured wasn’t really helping his already foul mood.

“You will have to make a choice. Come back to the woodland with me and stand trial for your actions..” he suspected she knew what her king was talking about, judging by her clenched fists and downcast gaze. “or stay with the dwarves and wander the wilderness like you always wanted.” There was no smile in his voice as he said that. “You can be glad I revoke your banishment to give you that choice. I hope you’re aware of that.” And without awaiting her reply, he turned away.

Sure, he had applied first aid so to speak but Legolas was still in peril, Thranduil could tell. His breathing was shallow even in sleep and sweat was glistering on his bloody forehead. The king’s steps were light but hurried, knowing Legolas didn’t have much time.

If he was too late, he would _never_ forgive himself…

* * *

 

**Sindarin Translations**

_Aiwendil - Radagast the Brown_

_Ellon - Elf (male)_

_Ion-nin - My Son_

_Echui lá - Awake / Wake up_

_Ada - Father/Dad (informal)_

_Adar - Father (formal_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Pls comment, comments are love <3\. Will upload third chapter soon, promise :) If you're impatient, the rest is on my ff account already haha
> 
> Also the connection thing may be canon or it may not but I really liked the idea so here it is x).


	3. Blood on the Sheets

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**Chapter 3 - Blood on the Sheets**

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_You will have to make a choice._

Yes of course. As if it was much of a choice. Tauriel walked over to Kili, her steps hurried. If she wanted to ever return to her home, she had to follow Thranduil quickly. Kneeling down to the dwarf, her chin quivered again. Her lips touched his forehead, her eyes closed and she made sure the rune stone was still in his hand. It should be returned to his mother after all. With another breath and a sigh, she finally stood.

She had made her decision.

Sure, she would love her freedom and maybe staying with the dwarfs wasn’t half bad. But on the other hand she could never forgive herself if she left without a word and Legolas found her gone when he awoke. Or if he didn’t awake…No, she still couldn’t think about that. The Mirkwood was her home and Legolas was a big part in making it just that. Even though she had begun to resent his father over the last decades, today she had seen him act in a way she’d never witnessed before. The way he dropped to his knees and tended to his injured son was so out of place for the coldhearted, distant king she had come to know.

It seemed today was a day for many things to be out of place.

Like always, the Elves would depart from this battle, leaving the others to mourn the dead. She clenched her jaw and pressed her lips together in dismay. If she had any say about this…but she didn’t. Sure she didn’t. Like Thranduil had pointed out so perfectly she was just a lowly sylvan elf. Even as captain of the guard she had no command about how the kingdom would be run. Not that she was likely to maintain that position after the events of the last days.

A sigh escaped her lips. Staying in Mirkwood wouldn’t be pleasant for a whole while. Freedom seemed like a pleasing alternative. But Legolas…seeing him like this had opened her eyes to something.

With a nod to herself she shouldered the medical bag and picked up her weapon. One last glance at Kili and she went after Thranduil as fast as her legs would carry her. Which wasn’t as fast as she would have liked, to be honest. But she was still fast enough to catch up to him on the way to his horse. Without a word, she helped him mount the animal with Legolas still in his arms, breathing irregularly and shallow, rattling sounds escaping his throat. He was so limp and it made Tauriel shiver just by seeing it. No, she could never run. Not now. Probably never.

Not from him.

She had been surprised when there was a second horse waiting for the king. But then she mused that it was probably for Legolas, originally. The king had been looking for his son up here, assuming to take him back to Dale whole and healthy, or at least hoping so. Again, the guilt weighted her down and she almost didn’t make it on her horse. Thranduil had departed, not waiting for her. For once, she didn’t mind at all, Legolas needed help as fast as possible. She was already guilt ridden for not being able to scoop him up and drag him down the mountain herself. What if he didn’t make it? Then this was all to blame on her…

Her horse made it into a sprint quickly and tried to catch up to the king as if on a playful race. Tauriel would have liked to remind the animal that this situation was very serious but she really didn’t have the heart to do so.

They reached Dale and Thranduil almost ran over the dragonslayer Bard, who had waited for him at the gate, maybe to speak to him. Tauriel shot him an apologetic gaze as they raced by. That Dale was such a maze wasn’t really in their favor right now so the _elleth_ cursed this city for making everything even more difficult. During their ride, Legolas had slumped completely into his father’s arms and Tauriel could see that the situation was getting worse since the movement of the horse sure wasn’t helping his health any. When the king dismounted in front of the healing tents, Tauriel got another glimpse at him and what she saw almost gave her a heart attack. His forehead was drenched in sweat, his skin pale as a sheet, lips blue and bloody and his breathing was almost nonexistent, coming into short stabs of air that rattled and wheezed. The guard in front of the tent, Gadordir, a rather new recruit, immediately spotted the king and went almost as pale as Legolas upon seeing the prince. He screamed into the tent for the healers and then everything was kind of a blur.

She remembered following into the big tent, remembered the reaction of the healers. Horror in their gazes when the king unwrapped Legolas from his robes. Widened eyes upon seeing that even on the robe and through the bandage there was still more blood than before. The _elleth_ barely registered how they tore the clothing from his chest, how healing words filled the tent and harsh words of haste command intercepted with them. Tauriel had always admired the healers for their collectiveness in times of great peril and this was one of these situations where you could see who was a senior healer and which of them were new to their job. They worked quickly but to her shock, Tauriel saw the next second something that made her almost cave in herself:

Legolas’ breathing had completely stopped.

At that point, their head healer stepped in. Her name was Merilthel and she was rather short for an elf with long black hair in a half-bun like always, the rest of the long locks falling down her back. She was very compassionate but also strict if must be. And she had a unique talent for healing, of course. Tauriel once heard she was even older than the king but those were just rumors. To elves, age and time really weren’t that important.

Her right hand rested on Legolas’ now bare chest. Her underlings were all stepping away to give her space and quiet for concentration. She closed her eyes and a few seconds later, a song of healing could be heard in the tent and it smelled of pine and apples and other fresh things found in the forest. The captain of the guard had to keep it together to not collapse in a chair herself and the healers were already sparing her worried glances. Yet she remained standing, stiff and full of so much panic that she just couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ sit down.

The most grasping presence in the room though, was the king. He stood in the entrance where the healers had taken Legolas from his arms, stare fixed on his limp son on the bed. Tauriel saw that he himself, was holding his breath as if he was living whatever Legolas went through. The royal was pale and his hand grabbed onto the sheet that separated the outside world with the inside of this tent. He clang to it like it was a lifeline, like it could be the one thing pulling Legolas back into _Endor_. His lips were sculptured into a thin line and Tauriel had never seen so much panic and devastation in his eyes before. Unblinking eyes stared at the bed. There were other soldiers here, hurt soldiers. But at this moment, none other than Legolas mattered. None of the wounded even seemed to mind. The ones that were conscious stared at what was happening just as intensely. A sudden movement from the king alerted Tauriel to his presence once again. He stepped forward, one, two tiny steps as if his knees couldn’t manage any more. His robe still had his son’s blood on it and it made Tauriel’s heart skip another beat. Then he said something that made the _elleth_ feel so out of place that she almost walked out.

_“No…no, not him too. I’m begging you,_ Mandos _. Please, not him too…”_

Yes, she tried really hard not to stare. And she wasn’t even sure if anybody else heard over all the commotion. But this, this was something that made Tauriel regret so much more in her life, especially the last day. She had always taken Thranduil for cold and heartless, not letting anybody in. Legolas had told her that it wasn’t quite like that but she never really believed him. Just a few hours ago she had accused him of just that: Having no love in him. But the way he acted now, upon facing the possibility of losing his son, proved her wrong so fatally that she almost wanted to beg him for forgiveness then and there. Almost.

_Not him too…_ of course. Legolas had told her how his father never spoke of the death of his wife. His expression in that moment had been filled with so much pain and sadness that she only now imagined how much worse it must have been for Thranduil himself, losing his beloved like that. She had been wrong. There was love in the king of Mirkwood. But it was so deeply buried that he didn’t dare let it resurface. Because then, there might be a chance of collapse, a chance of showing weakness in front of his subjects and that wasn’t going to happen if he could help it. Tauriel had only known of the queen briefly. It was a fleeting memory in her mind, a memory of days when she was very young and the king found her in the forest when her parents had died. He and his wife had taken care of her for quite some time before a proper family was found. And even then, Tauriel would get visits, or presents. Legolas had been correct when he said that his father had favored her. The queen herself was always this pure light in her memory. Bright and shining but subtle like the stars themselves, twinkling and inviting, warmth and light. She remembered her own tears when she found out about her death and Tauriel had only known her very briefly. What it must have been like for Thranduil…the pain of today’s battle and losses that swirled inside herself were probably just a mere shadow in comparison to that pain…

The sharp intake of breath was heard all over the room and tore Tauriel from her tense thoughts. The whole tent had been completely silent when the prince stopped breathing and it seemed like at this sound, everybody relaxed immensely. Tauriel herself was clutching at the medical bag still in her hand, forgotten completely. She had a little panic attack on her own when the breath left Legolas for far too long. She imagined life without him, she pictured all the reasons why this was her fault and she was just so short away from breaking down in tears that the only thing keeping her from it were her pride and the fingernails that dug deeply into her own palm. Upon his first intake of breath, she released her own in a humorless laugh and felt her lip quiver, whipped the tears from the corners of her eyes. She glanced over to Thranduil and saw how he almost collapsed into the nearby chair, lacking his usual grace entirely. He was still staring, ice blue eyes unblinking, but his breathing was calming down now that multiple healers were rushing around, gathering herbs and barking orders at the other patients to stay where they were. One came over and asked Tauriel if she needed help with any wound but she declined, even though she thought that there was maybe one or two things that needed attention. It didn’t seem proper for her to lead the healer’s attention away from Legolas though, even when they had finally stabilized him to the point where Merilthel let go of him and whipped the sweat from her own brow. She whispered further instructions to the other healers, then made a few choice steps over to her king. She bowed her head, then put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tauriel again felt like an intruder. Nobody usually touched the king. But she assumed Merilthel was one of the very few that eventually could. Thranduil looked up to her finally, after tearing his gaze away from his son with much difficulty. He didn’t have to ask the question, the healer knew what he was going to say.

“We stabilized him for now. There was a poison on that blade, my king. It was very lucky you brought him just in time. We set his shoulder, bound broken rips and stitched the wound on his chest closed but the poison has to be treated properly still. He’s in a healing sleep for now and I do not know when we will be able to wake him. Or if the head wound is graver than we estimated. It can only be told with time and proper equipment back in our halls. His stable state could very well be temporary.” She spoke quietly but Tauriel suspected the whole tent still heard her every word.

The king nodded, slowly regaining his regal and cold composure. He stood and glanced over at the bed again, then at the other patients who looked away under his gaze.

“If you require the halls of our kingdom you shall receive them. Are they ready for transport?” he asked the head healer.

“Transport, my Lord? Are you sure?”

It wasn’t the healer who asked this question. She had just nodded, bowed and set to the task of making things ready.

It had been Tauriel.

She had come out of her shell for the moment, joining the king on the other side of the tent. Shaken out of the shock and grief by Thranduil’s horrid and uncharacteristic reaction and by their head healer listing all of Legolas’ wounds. He had to be in so much pain...

“I’m not having this discussion again, Tauriel. We will leave and nothing will hold me here where no stone stands on top of the other anymore. The battle has ended and I will not risk further lives when the sacrifice is not worth the price.” He had stood up, now again towering over Tauriel with his height and all his glory. But for a second, his glance switched from her green eyes to Legolas on the bed, still fragile, still in possible life threatening danger and he quickly turned away from her.

But Tauriel hadn’t been protesting for the sake of men or dwarves. No, this time she had other thoughts on her mind. Even if the king’s words were demanding and cold as ever, his face and tone still betrayed the raw pain of the last hour. His voice said ‘not risk further lives’ when his heart meant ‘all but his’. So the _elleth_ shook her head and bowed it slightly. A showing of respect.

“I was not asking because of that. Are you sure that departure will not bring…further harm upon us?” she formed her words carefully but knowingly, searching his gaze like she hadn’t done in a long time. Gone had been the days when she had all but looked up to him. Now maybe something of this time was resurfacing. She was sure that transporting Legolas in this state was not a wise thing to do and she was also very sure that their ruler knew that. Still, he wanted to leave, not wait until he was better. The royal spared her a short glance, then he turned away again, face cold and distant.

“If the healers are in need of our halls to ensure our safety then I shall try everything to make it so.” He paused and his ice cold gaze rested on her, now full of something else. Grief but also rage, and betrayal. “And you, Tauriel, should hold your tongue. For you are not my advisor in such matters any longer.” Now even his tone had caught the temperature of his prior gaze. Tauriel suppressed a cringe and took a deep breath to calm herself. The fire within her was burning and she wanted to protest, wanted to yell at Thranduil to be reasonable. Legolas couldn’t be moved yet! A sole glance at the prince could tell anybody that it wouldn’t be a good decision. But the king wanted to leave, wanted to retreat into the safety of his halls again. Thranduil now turned away, careful of his movements and he left the tent silently, one last glance on his now sleeping son.

Tauriel closed her eyes and sighed deeply. This day…this blasted day. Why couldn’t it end? Why couldn’t it end with Legolas well again and by her side? Why did it have to be this way and why did it have to be her fault? Her tired feet dragged her over to his bed. The healers were still tending to him and she tried not to get in the way when she sat down beside him and stroked through his blonde hair in thought. She combed the blood out of it, the sight was making her sick and in her heart, she thought about all the times he had made her smile and all the times his smile had brightened up her day, shining like the starlight she loved so much.

Her lip quivered again but she stayed with him as long as she was able.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo Tauriel's in a bit of an inner struggle here, I hope this short chapter was still good for you, would love to know in the comments! <3


	4. Blood on her Cheek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a lil longer than the last. Sorry for the break but I was v busy at work.

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**Chapter 4 - Blood on her Cheek**

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Tauriel would have liked to say goodbye to the dwarves. Or at least to Kili. She wanted to go to the funeral, she wanted to give honor to the men and dwarves that had died in this battle but Thranduil wouldn’t hear any of it. In fact, he didn’t even speak to her all the way back to the forest. She had thought about running away again then. However, just one look over to Legolas let all her reasons to stay crash into her all at once and she nodded, understanding. This whole time, she felt like cowering in a corner and crying. It was normally not her style to cry her eyes out. She was strong willed and passionate, yes. But she hadn’t cried for centuries now. Even thinking about her parents didn’t make her that sad anymore. Her mind was all work, work, work. Fight the darkness, safe the forest, tell Thranduil to not be so hard headed anymore, be by Legolas’ side- and _that_ was the thing. She wanted to be by his side right now but apparently, Thranduil had forbidden it. She wasn’t allowed inside the healing tent anymore (after being thrown out shortly after sitting down) except for business and sitting at her friend’s side was not part of that business. So she made it her ‘business’ to bring in all the elves that were still alive and make them comfortable. In the meantime, she would steal glances at Legolas and his condition worried her more and more. They said he was stabilized and ready to move but to her, it was still like she was ripped apart just looking at him. His skin was pale, his forehead glistering, the rise and fall of his chest was unsteady and flat. There was still blood caked on the inside of his bandage as if the wound hadn’t quite stopped bleeding yet, stubbornly insisting on bringing the _ellon_ further pain. The gash on his forehead was also covered in bandages so she couldn’t see his full face and his normally artfully braided hair was lying around him in an unruly state she had never seen it in in her entire life. Her fingers longed to stroke through them, to braid them herself like she had done multiple times before. She wanted to sit with him, be with him, to tell him how sorry she was for all of this, for him being hurt like this, for him being so close to death it made the king this desperate. So every time her gaze fell upon him and his condition was not better, her heart reached out to him and pleaded, begged for him to wake, to get well, to just open his gorgeous eyes.

But of course, it didn’t happen that way.

The wounded were transported on the carriages they had formerly transported the supplies for the people of Dale on. It was a form of irony Tauriel really wasn’t ready to laugh at. Legolas lay between two soldiers with a wounded and a broken leg that insisted they would try and walk, they were getting better, honest. Tauriel had heard them argue with the healers on previous occasions, telling them that Legolas needed more care than they did, that the healers should take care of their prince instead of them. However, Merilthel wouldn’t let them go and since they were damn stubborn, she instructed them how they could help take care of Legolas from their position next to him without risking to lose their legs in the process. Tauriel was glad these two were there. She knew them from her guard and they were very loyal and kind. One of them was very young, the other rather stern and wise. Both of them however, were glad to have been given an important thing to do while uselessly riding on that carriage.

So Tauriel, while they traveled, kept relatively close to the carriage, paying as close attention to it as she could. She herself had been under some care of the healers. She hadn’t allowed the young healer long, not even to clean herself from the filth of battle, just a bit of energy given back to her because the healer insisted. So when they left a few hours later, Tauriel was still in her battle gear, still with the clothes on she had worn on Raven Hill. This is how she arrived back in her home; Torn, slightly wounded, exhausted and in general completely miserable. Her thoughts were constantly wandering back and forth between Erebor, Laketown, how its citizens survived this war and Legolas, wounded and maybe dying in the healing halls.

The closer they had gotten to the forest, the worse Legolas looked. It had been as if you watched the darkness creep inside of him as they walked beneath the foul tree branches. As if the forest itself suddenly turned against its own prince and when they finally reached the walls of the castle, the healers had been busy just keeping Legolas alive. A whisper of panic had spread through all their army when they noticed what the fuss was about. Not just Thranduil would be devastated if Legolas died. No, not even close. Even though he was trying at being as cold and controlled as his father, Legolas never quite managed it. The kindness and compassion in him was known throughout all of their kingdom and they all knew that if this light inside their prince would fade, so would all that was left of their king. They never spoke about it, of course. But they all knew It, deep down.

Tauriel, even though she was still in her dirty clothes and all, ran after the healers, demanding to be let through to the healing halls. She could feel that something was wrong, she needed to be there…

“You can’t go inside.”

“I command you to let me through, Calphon.” She stood face to face with the guard in front of her. She was not going to be disgraced just because she tried to be compassionate. Even if Thranduil had a fallout with her that didn’t mean the rest of the kingdom had…right?

“You are not my captain anymore.” He said but his eyes looked nervous under his helmet, as if he didn’t quite agree but still had to. “Besides, the king himself commanded the healers be left alone with Legolas in the private healing quarters. He told us to let nobody in…especially you.”

Tauriel thought about just running between the two guards blocking her way. The feeling in her gut told her that Legolas was not far away from fading and her stomach turned just thinking about it. She wanted to push these men aside and be with him, she wanted to be the one to pull him back to reality, to ground him if she could.

But she didn’t.

All she did was take a deep breath and nod slowly.

“Is the king with him?” she asked. If she herself wasn’t allowed inside then his father might be the only one able to get through to Legolas if the worst happened. 

“Yes, he is.” The guard nodded shortly. Tauriel, lips pressed together in dismay and fists by her side, turned around.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” She concluded and slowly made her way to her chambers.

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Inside the healing halls, hell had broken loose. Legolas was put in a single bed in a single room that was normally empty since it was reserved for intensive care of one patient and...well, elves normally don’t get sick. The healing halls are rarely visited and if they are, it’s mostly a short visit that can later be cured at home. But these days, with the sickness spreading in the forest and the constant spider attacks paired with orcs, injury wasn’t that uncommon any longer. This was why they even had this many healers. Thranduil wasn’t sure if other elven realms required as many, since the others still had magical protection from the darkness. Sometimes he indeed envied them for it.

He also wondered, while the healers were whispering between themselves in worried, hushed voices, if Legolas would be in this condition were the forest not in this state. The king had seen the shadow affecting his son, had seen that the poison inside him seemed to make him vulnerable to it. The king had the burning desire to go out there and kill every single spider and orc roaming the forest, making it sick.

In this very moment though, the king of Mirkwood could do nothing but stand idly by while the men and women under his command tried to tend to his son in the best way they could. He had told the guards to not let anybody in. Especially Tauriel.

Oh, Tauriel. How he did not want to think about her right now. He did not know if he should blame her for his son’s condition. In fact, he didn’t really know what even happened. But it was enough that Legolas was just at Ravenhill because he was siding with Tauriel when his father clearly showed how displeased he was with her. It was enough that Legolas had chosen her over his father, in that moment and that in Legolas’ eyes he had seen no understanding for the king’s own reaction. It was enough that when Tauriel fled the kingdom despite his orders, Legolas went after her. It was enough that despite his warnings about it, Tauriel had simply let him, apparently even encouraged him to. So from his perspective, from where he was standing and from the spot in the room where he could hear his son’s pain filled moans, he just couldn’t help but blame her the most. Her affectionate thoughts for this dwarf had made this all possible and he was therefore not going to allow her here when she was the one making it happen in the first place.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity even to the elven king, the healers stepped away from Legolas again. His head healer reported to him, said that they had stabilized him into a healing sleep again and that they were still not sure of his state and what the poison was and if the head injury was grave, that they had to test it when –if—he awoke and they asked if Tranduil had noticed anything when he found him, if he had been conscious. But the king just shook his head, lips pressed together in dismay. He hadn’t really let Legolas even be awake while he had found him. He’d put him right into a painless sleep and not thought about the gash on his forehead, the wound on his chest being far worse in that situation.

“If you can’t do anything further I’d like to be alone with my son.” Thranduil finally spoke up. It had become quiet in the room since they were awaiting his orders. His voice was more of a whisper and he sounded defeated. The healers tried not to shoot him sympathetic glances and bowed quickly, following his words by leaving the room swiftly.

Slowly, the king wandered over to the bed. He sat down in one of the chairs he had to drag to the bedside and looked at his son for quite some time, taking everything in. He looked like he had when they left Dale, just even worse for wear. His face had a sickly pallor, his eyes showed a deep shadow under them as if he hadn’t gotten any rest in at least two weeks and he had an expression of pain on his face, not looking relaxed at all while in the land of dreams.

After a few seconds, Thranduil couldn’t take it any longer. The room was finally empty, he was alone with a hurt, possibly dying Legolas and he just couldn’t bear to hold his cold composure anymore.

So right then and there, King Thranduil of Mirkwood crumbled.

Nothing had hurt him like this in a very long time. Ever since the death of his wife he had not allowed himself these feelings of grief to boil to the surface of his thoughts. Had he allowed them inside his head he might have faded right where he found her body. The thoughts had consumed him, had the journey home blur into nothing and they were only interrupted when their son, _her_ son, ran into his arms again. Legolas was asking what happened, he saw his Daddy’s face in scars and he asked where Mommy was and just for the sake of this little elfling, Thranduil held on. He told him Mommy couldn’t come home any longer, held him when he cried, tried not to cry alongside him. But he didn’t fade, not like he thought he would right then on the battlefield. It was his little leaf that kept him living. It was Legolas that kept him alive, made him go through the movements every morning, kept him in the land of the living by simply existing, by simply still feeling and expressing so much joy and energy that Thranduil could hardly believe it some days. One defining moment he had realized how much Legolas was like his mother and it had destroyed him as well as healed part of him. Legolas shared her more gentle but beautiful face, the energy he displayed day by day and most of all, he shared his mother’s light. He had heart and warmth inside him, boiling to the surface almost every day. Thranduil saw his son interacting with other people in the kingdom and especially as a child he had been a delight. A ray of sunshine as often described. If he asked anyone for their honest opinion, the king was sure that they would answer that Legolas had held the kingdom together then, not him. Not him, the grief stricken king who could barely leave his chambers any longer. No, not him. Legolas.

Even now, Thranduil felt the dread enter his kingdom as the news of Legolas’ condition spread. He may be their leader, he may be the kindom’s guide but if he was honest with himself he knew that Legolas, Legolas was the heart of it.

The king was aware that he had been distant. Of course he was. But for him, it had been easier. It was easier to lock the feelings away instead of embracing them. It had been easier to keep Legolas, who was boiling with joy and energy and so much like his mother, outside of the cage he built for himself, the cage that he considered his personal punishment. Punishment for failing his son, punishment for failing his kingdom, punishment for not being able to keep the love of his life safe and by his side. It wasn’t long after the light of his life had diminished that the light of the forest swiftly followed. It wasn’t long after that Legolas was no longer able to play in the forest freely anymore. The little prince had often left the palace back then, Thranduil remembered fondly. He and Tauriel had already been close friends then, just innocent playmates making their way to explore the kingdom they lived in. He recalled Tauriel to be one of the reasons Legolas had left his own little shell he had built after his mother’s death. He remembered them hand in hand, running along the trees and laughing…

But he couldn’t dwell there right now, the memories weren’t changing anything. They couldn’t help his son, his precious _ion-nin_ right now. Thranduil’s expression slipped into one of deep and utter worry and his hand gently ghosted over his son’s cheek, then over his furrowed brow. From deep inside his memory, the king recalled a lullaby that Legolas was sung by his mother when he was little. He had not thought about things like this in a long, long time.

Something drove him to sing it out loud. The gentle and sad melody filled the sparse room, sounding off the walls and drifting down the hallway of the healing halls. The king kept stroking his son’s face, the other hand gently gripping his. The song sounded of the forest, of leaves in the wind, flowers in the breeze and the smell of grass in the air. Slowly, he felt Legolas’ face relax under his touch, heard his moans of pain ease into quieter breathing.

And despite the situation and despite the lonely tear streaming down his pale cheek, Thanduil Oropherion smiled.

* * *

 

In her chambers, Tauriel came to a halt as soon as she entered the door. Her eyes took in the mess that was her room. She remembered the chaos that day, when she left for Laketown. She recalled her haste and that was what made her stop in her tracks.

Right now, her behavior seemed so useless and illogical. Had that really been her? So eager to get out of the forest, so eager to help the dwarfs, eager to leave her life in Mirkwood behind. Right now she could picture herself going with Kili, alive, to his kingdom, getting to know his father, being with him. She did not know if it had been love that blossomed between them. Maybe the king was right and she had had no idea what it meant. Because right now, she was not hollow and empty because of Kili’s death. No, she was numb and extinguished because of what she had just witnessed happening to the prince of Mirkwood, of this kingdom she called her home for so many centuries. Of course the acquaintance of one creature other than elves was exciting and new and certainly not something to look down upon. She would miss Kili in her heart, always. The way he was so open and carefree and the way he carried himself despite his height and the state of his own kingdom, lost and almost forgotten.

A sigh escaped her lips and she slowly walked over to a piece of clothing on the floor. She picked it up and tossed it over a chair, the same fate awaited several other pieces a few seconds later. Her heart wasn’t really in it if she was honest but it kept her hands busy and she could not think about what would happen the second when they were not. But the moment came quicker than she thought, when the room was perfectly organized and her bed was made, the windows opened for a fresh breeze and the hairs on her arm created little hills on her skin from the chilling winter air. Still, Tauriel left the window open, viewing the chill as a way to keep her alert and awake, even if her body wanted to sink down on the bed so very much. Her muscles ached from the battle and she became aware of the wounds she had succumbed to herself when falling down those stairs and fighting Bolg. The blue spots on her chest were rubbed with a little ointment she found in one of her cupboards and one or two bandages were applied but soon, she paused at the sight of the blood on her hands. It wasn’t on her fingertips any longer, no. That must have gone away while she was busy helping out the other healers. But on the back of her hands, there was still something left, crusts of red substance caked to her skin and she peeled them away with frustration entering her expression and she tried hard not to let the wetness enter her emerald eyes. Her lips pressed together when one spot was particularly stubborn and she tried not to think about where this blood came from. Her feet automatically dragged her over to the little basin she had and she poured some water into it from a pitcher, furiously rubbing on her hands. By now she was dressed in some comfortable clothes pulled over her battered torso. But until now, her face had not dared look at her reflection.

Right now, after successfully ridding her hands of the blood, her eyes automatically looked up into the mirror above the sink.

That was her mistake.

Tauriel froze at the sight. It wasn’t her hair that was in disarray that stopped her or the dirt all over her. It wasn’t even the little cut on one of her cheeks that puzzled her and made her stop in her tracks. No, it was the blood on her other cheek that made her stop. It was the unharmed one without the cut and it wasn’t her own blood. There was a print there and it roughly contoured the shape of a hand.

Suddenly, everything came rushing back. All the details she had tried to burry deep down came to her mind. The way Legolas spoke to her softly while she tried to apply pressure to his chest. The way the blood was just everywhere and the panic that streamed through her like poison. And finally, the way he cupped her cheek with his own hand, covered in his own blood but still wanting to comfort her, to touch her.

Her knees gave in under her and she sunk to the floor, back rubbing against her cupboard under the sink. A heartbroken sob escaped her lips and she completely drew into herself, knees to her chest, arms slung around herself and the tears flew freely down her cheeks, some of them through the cracked blood that had broken the dams. Her own hand touched the offending surface and she lightly touched the spot, only inducing a fresh round of tears.

She just couldn’t take it in any longer. All the sorrow of this day only crushed down on her completely and Tauriel sobbed like she hadn’t ever since she was a little child that lost her parents in an orc raid.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaah that was pretty depressing wasn't it? Tell me what you think about it! :3 Comments are love <3


	5. Blood cleared away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Yes I did indeed forget to upload the final chapter OTL I'm so sorry. Got absorbed in my next work x) it's an original thing but kinda still a fanfic?? I'll upload it here too and hope it won't be ignored completely :) Love you guys, enjoy! ~

**Blood cleared away**

 

* * *

 

After a while, her sobs quieted down gradually. Finally, she managed to get up on shaking legs and rub away the blood from her face, trying not to look at herself again this time. When she was finished, Tauriel took a few calming breathes. By now, it had gotten dark but she didn’t know how much time passed exactly. The few steps to the window told her that the moon was high enough for the palace to be asleep by now.

A quick glance at her bed made her ponder if she should maybe rest before doing anything else. On the other hand, the worry and crying fit had made her desire to see Legolas climb even higher. If she made it inside the healing quarters past the guards she could at least sit with him for a while.

Just as she assumed, the palace was empty when she stepped out of her room. Her way to the healing halls was only hindered once, by the guard standing in front of it. But Tauriel was in luck when she saw that the guard was talking to one of the healers in hushed voices, apparently bordering on flirting. Tauriel pursed her lips at this. She was glad she got through, yes, but if she were still in command, that guard would hear a decent scolding for lacking attention on his post.

There were a few healers on the night shift but Tauriel was again successful in avoiding them. She snuck into Legolas’ room –or at least where she assumed he was- and closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath. Good. She had made it. A quick glance around the room confirmed that she was alone. This was the room Legolas was often taken to when injured. Not to say it happened that often but when it did, this was where he would stay. Tauriel once heard Thranduil call it the royal healing quarters. At one point, Legolas had even mentioned that this might have been where he was born. But all of that was unimportant now as she gazed upon the figure in the bed, pale and obviously in pain. She swallowed back another wave of tears that threatened to resurface. What was wrong with her? Normally she was the toughest _elleth_ to go around, she had been told so by many of her colleagues and friends. That tears came so easily to her today were not a good sign for her state of mind. Not even considering the state of her body.

With another deep breath, she sat down beside Legolas’ bed and took in his pale form in the moonlight. He had been washed and bandaged, the gash in his forehead was covered by a piece of clothing, making his hair free of further bandages. His braids were undone and his hair fell around him in an orderly fashion. Even when deathly injured, Legolas’ hair seemed to insist on being flawless. Tauriel smiled at these thoughts and her hand stroked through the soft blonde strands. It was strange, seeing them completely open. If he had them like this he looked more like his father than ever and Tauriel pursed her lips at the thought. As if an act of protest upon this comparison, she took a few strands of his hair and carefully redid the braids he most commonly wore on the side of his head. She couldn’t finish them on the back of his skull but the loose strands already made her feel better. The former captain didn’t know why a comparison to his father had made her so angry. Maybe because right now she was still mad at the king for how he acted the last few days, no, years. The fights with him had become more frequent and intense as the years went by. Tauriel knew that in a sense, Legolas was a lot like his father. It wasn’t just his looks, in some situations, Legolas could be just as stubborn and just as royal, elegant, swift and hotheaded. But what the prince lagged was this pure sense of superiority. This notion that every creature that was not an elf was not as worthy of attention, not worth saving. That they should not act upon their knowledge of the darkness in Dol Gudur that was also the source of their problem with the spiders and orcs. In contrast to Thranduil’s coldness, Legolas often still showed his warm and gentle side when not in battle and it reminded her each time that she was not mad at him but at his father, that she should not take her anger out on him when Thranduil deserved it more.

Tauriel’s fingers untangled form his hair and she instead grabbed onto his hand closest to her, encircling it with her own. Her eyes closed and she would have very much liked to heal him, help him get better but she had no strength left in herself. Right now, finally by his side and a little at rest because of it, she realized just how tired she was. Without her noticing, she dozed off in her chair just a few minutes later…

With a jolt she awoke and almost screamed when she spotted another elf at the bed, leaning over Legolas. Out of instinct, the former captain wanted to attack but she soon noticed that it was a healer. She recalled her name to be Foneth, she had seen her around on one or two occasions. The young _elleth_ smiled and looked up to Tauriel, who contemplated if she should leave. After all, she was not allowed in here.

“Calm yourself. I will not tell a soul that you are here.” The healer assured her in sylvan speak with a quiet voice while undoing the bandages to Legolas’ chest. Tauriel tried not to look as she moved her hands around his torso expertly and she also tried not to stare at the muscles there. It was easy though, because her words confused her.

“Why would you do that? The king ordered me to stay away.”, she didn’t want to bring it up but her curiosity got the better of her. Foneth smiled kindly, glancing at her hand holding Legolas’ firmly, even as she had slept.

“That is true. It is also true that I happen to know you two are very close. I would not want to be in the way when you just want to be with him. Or say goodbye.” At the last words she finally finished taking off the bandages and Tauriel gasped at the wound underneath. It was an angry red but it was stitched. The healer frowned, apparently not pleased. Suddenly, Tauriel realized what she had said and her panic spiked even further immediately.

“What do you mean, say goodbye? I thought he was healing?” she asked, voice shaking slightly. The healer’s gaze was now sad and she shook her head.

“We don’t know for certain yet. He has to wake up for us to determine the severity of his head injury and we still don’t know if our antidote worked. And now this wound seems slightly infected…” she lay her hand on top of the red gap in Legolas’ chest and Tauriel could only watch as the healing flew from her fingertips into his normally so flawless skin. The former captain’s eyes widened at these news and she only gripped Legolas’s hand tighter.

“He can’t die.”, she whispered, shaking her head in denial. Foneth froze in her movements momentarily, then continued to smear some paste around Legolas’s wound, then bandaging it with fresh cloth. But she stayed silent, probably not knowing how to comfort Tauriel any further.

“He shouldn’t-“ she couldn’t say it again, her voice dying midway. The healer looked up while wrapping Legolas’s chest, half holding him up with which Tauriel helped gladly. Holding Legolas was welcome at these news. She tried not to squeeze too hard but she really wanted to stay this way forever.

“I know what you mean.” The healer finally said something. She was still young but she had this wisdom in her gaze that Tauriel had noticed from the very start. “The king would not survive his death.” She surveyed the former captain’s expression at this, which hardened but then she nodded. She was right. As much as Tauriel was mad at Thranduil, she knew that he would never make it through the rest of the year If Legolas died. His actions on Ravenhill and after had proven just that to her. Maybe he buried it but the king clung to his son far more than he liked to admit. Suddenly, Foneth smiled.

“It must be difficult for you especially.” She stated, her gaze sympathetic but gentle. Finally, the bandages were finished and Tauriel reluctantly sat Legolas back down on the mattress, taking his hand again.

“Why? What do you mean?” the former captain asked innocently, trying to hold back the blood from rushing to her face.

“Oh do not jest. It couldn’t be much more obvious.” Foneth said with a grin, huffing slightly. “Everyone watching you notices the way you two are around each other.” She checked the other bandages around Legolas’ body while Tauriel now couldn’t hold back her blush any longer. Opening her mouth to protest, the elleth across from interrupted her by giggled slightly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” She chuckled again and Tauriel closed her mouth, looking down at their intertwined hands and now smiling as well. Maybe the healer was right. After all, she had admitted it to herself during this day many times: Legolas’ loss would by far cripple her beyond repair. Not only because of friendship…she had known for quite some time that there was more but she had never dared think about it often, much rather act upon it. In the back of her mind a voice always said that they were just friends, that Legolas was like this with everybody. But then just a few days ago…

“The king knows.” She blurted suddenly. Why was she opening up to this stranger so much? Maybe because the room was dark and Foneth seemed to be able to keep her mouth shut from what they had talked about until now. “He…he doesn’t approve.” A melodic laugh made Tauriel look up.

“Of course he doesn’t.” Foneth smiled gently, her voice not bitter at all but understanding. “He fears for our _ernil-nin_ in all aspects of his life. I bet he just wanted to make sure you didn’t break his heart.”

“ _Me?_ Breaking _his_ heart? Has Thranduil ever _watched_ his son around _any_ maidens?” Tauriel hissed, leaning forward and Foneth had to suppress her laugh from getting too loud so the guards didn’t hear. It was correct though. Through the ages, many maidens had tried to get closer to Legolas. Why would they not? He was a prince, good looking (plainly put, an understatement), well built…but Legolas either never noticed or politely declined any offer ever given to him. Legolas had voiced his annoyance to her on many occasions and also the annoyance over his father pressuring him on not declining such offers all of the time. Tauriel now wondered if it was for the same reason she suspected it to be. But Thranduil’s comment was not only of concern for his son, she knew that. It also spoke of his concerns about her standing and what a union of the two of them would bear as a statement. Thranduil himself had married a high standing _elleth_ from Lorien, his father Oropher had carefully chosen her amongst a few other sindarin _elleths_. Oropher had held traditions dearly and it was by now a tradition that the sylvan elves of their realm were ruled by sindarin royalty. Tauriel also knew that Thranduil’s statement came from his own father’s sense of tradition and that he would much rather have a sindarin bride for his precious son. She tried not to say anything on her opinion on the matter to Foneth though for she was not sure if the healer would understand. But the other _elleth_ pulled her from those bitter thoughts.

“You’re right. He is quite the heart breaker.” Foneth smirked and both of them suddenly quieted when Legolas between them moved in his sleep, a groan of pain escaping his lips when Foneth changed the piece of cloth on his forehead.

“We really should not speak of such things right now.”, Tauriel sighed and combed her hand through her own hair with worry on her face. How could she get so carried away over such trivial matters? She was supposed to be by his side, not talk about him and his feelings while he was apparently dying between them. The _elleth_ closed her eyes at this thought, trying to again blink back the tears. Her chin quivered but she took a deep breath and managed to calm herself.

“We will do everything we can.”, Foneth assured her suddenly. She was apparently finished with her work, setting everything aside to carry it with her. “Maybe you should go and get some rest. You cannot help him further right now.” The healer suggested. But Tauriel shook her head.

“No, I will stay. I want to be there when he wakes.” She did not say ‘if’. Because in her mind, it was set that he would. There was no other option. Foneth nodded, again that expression of pity and understanding on her face before she bowed in respect and finally left the room.

Tauriel tried to stay awake and react to any movement Legolas made. She wanted to be there for him, tried to coax him into waking with her soothing voice whenever his eyelids stirred but he never reacted. From time to time her gentle hands stroked his hair, she hummed different melodies and just talked to him as if he was awake, her voice quiet but audible. The window behind her flooded the room with moonlight and madeLegolas’s face appear even paler when it shone upon it. Her fingers lingered on his cheek, caressing his smooth skin gently in worry.

“Please…get better soon.” She whispered, her own eyelids fluttering from fatigue. And it was not long until she fell asleep in her chair again…

 

* * *

 

“What in _Adar_ do you think you are doing here?!” a shout startled her awake and this time, it was no gentle awakening. She must have really had a tight sleep for the elven king to have entered the chambers and the sun rising without her even slightly noticing. Tauriel immediately let go of Legolas’ hand and stood up. There was no running now.

“I’m-“

“Cease speaking.” The coldness of the king’s voice cut through her words immediately. “I ordered you to stay away and you disobeyed me. Again.” His tone was calm but filled with pure rage. It was the tone she had seen many soldiers cower under. Her instinct was to bow and beg for apology, it was what she was trained to do. But the rebel in her, the one who had tried to stand up to the king ever since she saw how wrong he was, refused to.

“I have every right to be here.” She protested. “He is my friend.” This only seemed to further the king’s anger. His lips set in a hard line and his chest blew.

“Your _friend_!? Then is it his friendship that made him follow you in the first place instead of listening to my orders? Was it your friendship that got him onto that mountain? Was he fighting that orc almost to his death because you were fighting by his side or was he alone? Is it not your ‘friendship’ that got him into this whole mess in the first place? Is it not why he is dying?!” he came closer while he talked and Tauriel stood her ground. But the king was at least a head bigger than her and she had to admit that he was intimidating, raging like this and towering over her, his voice booming. Especially if he was partly right. Maybe parts of it were her fault. But the words still made her angry as well and she just simply refused to back down. Maybe Tauriel was just like the two royals in that way.

“How dare you accuse me of making him do anything? Legolas can make his own decisions and it is not my fault that he decided to see reason where you could not-“

“How dare _I_?! May I remind you-“ the king’s own interruption was halted when a moan of pain from the bed made them both freeze. There had been guards entering the room upon hearing the heated argument but they stayed back at the door. Tauriel looked at Legolas for the first time since awakening and she felt all the blood drain from his face upon doing so. She almost shoved the king aside to get to Legolas, sitting on the bed and feeling his forehead. As indicated by the sheen of sweat present there, he was burning up. Her red mane of hair whirled around.

“Send for a healer. He has a fever.”, she ordered one of the guards. The young elf didn’t even protest or question her authority. He just nodded and disappeared. The king had suddenly gone quiet. He was pale himself now, staring at his son’s flushed face with wide blue eyes. How could he have missed this? It was so obvious and he could have been treated far sooner if he did not blow up at Tauriel this way…the royal took a deep, calming breath and dragged the chair a bit away from the _elleth_ , just to sit on it with resignation. He massaged the bridge of his nose and gazed at Tauriel for a second, his gaze distant but the _elleth_ understood immediately. She wanted to stay by Legolas’ side but Thranduil was his father. Even if she wanted to, she could not come between them in this dire situation. So she stepped aside for the king to sit in her place, instead standing in the corner like she would if she was still a soldier.

“Oh no…” came a voice form the door. It was Merilthel and she looked alarmed and hurried. Without halting in the entrance she rushed over to the bed, leaning over Legolas and holding her own hand to his forehead, carefully feeling his temperature. Her face turned into a displeased grimace and she began chanting, motioned for one of her subordinates who came in with her to go get some water and towel. The items soon appeared next to the head healer and Merilthel wet the cloth to lay it on top of Legolas’ brow. Thranduil tried to catch her gaze, tried to send a silent question without being forced to ask but Merilthel was averting his look on purpose. That couldn’t be good.

“What-“

“I can’t say, _hir-nin_. He could have a fever from the wound being infected or it could be him fighting the poison or…I do not know. It depends upon how high it gets and if it will break soon.” She finally admitted, interrupting the king’s attempt to ask her just that question. The royal nodded, understanding but of course still worried. Merilthel gently handed him the bowl of cold water as well as another towel.

“Change it as soon as it gets warm. Unless you want us to do so?” she asked carefully, considering the possibility that the king had other things to attend to, which was not unlikely. After all, being the ruler of a realm this big, especially after a battle that severe, was no easy task. But Thranduil nodded. He refused to back away from his son’s side, especially now. If his son’s life depended on him changing a towel, he would much rather do this than paperwork.

“No, I will.”, he confirmed and sat the bowl down beside him on the nightstand. From her corner, Tauriel had watched the king during this interaction, glad that his anger had diminished but sympathetic about his worry that was so unusually displayed out in the open. She tried to keep her own panic buried underneath but judging by her shaking hands and misty eyes, she was failing miserably. Slow breathes were supposed to calm her down further but not even the quiet counting to ten or the thought of something else would ease her racing heart. It hammered in her chest as she tried to look at anything but the bed and the sweat on Legolas’ forehead. Right now she would have given anything to travel to past lands and fight Bolg together with Legolas. Maybe then this terrible thing would never have happened. Maybe she would have fulfilled her duty in protecting him and be in his stead.

Slowly, after the healers had done what they could and Thranduil sent the guards away without arresting Tauriel, the crowd in the room was dimming. Tauriel debated if she was allowed to stay but given Thranduil’s dismissal of the guards, she didn’t really know how to react. His back was turned to her and in her restlessness, she really felt like breaking this unbearably silence.

“ _Hir-nin_. I-“

“I am not able to forgive you yet, Tauriel. You know how much I detest disobedience.” Thranduil interrupted her with a soft voice but the sharpness of it cut straight through her own words like a knife yet again. Tauriel stiffened but nodded even though her king could not see it with his back turned.

_“Ai, hir-nin.”_

“And you know as well that I cannot let you act as a captain again after all that has happened. After what you said to me. The people will question my treatment of you. There has to be a trial.” Tauriel flinched. If she thought about it, maybe it was even a miracle he spoke to her so calmly about this. When she now thought about these harsh words she said, she almost regretted them. Seeing him care for Legolas now, refreshing the cloth on his forehead, stroking a loose hair out of his son’s face…how could she not spot the love in him earlier? Deeply buried and enclosed in a cage of protection it was but it had been there all along. In small things.

“About that, _hir-nin_ …” but again, he would not let her finish the sentence.

“I am aware that you are partly right.” His statement astonished her so much that Tauriel had to restrain from pinching herself to confirm that this was indeed real. Thranduil Oropherion was admitting…. _to her!_...that she had been right about him. What in the name of the stars was happening?

“I have closed myself off from the world on purpose. The darkness around our palace is closing in slowly and pressing down on me on top of all other things…Sometimes I think I can hear the trees crying in agony.” A sigh escaped the royal’s lips and Tauriel saw how he sacked in his seat a little further, rubbing his own forehead in a massaging manner.

“Especially after this battle I fear for our people, Tauriel. It is not so much that I just do not care…though I have to admit that dwarfs are still a peculiar thing to me….It is just that as a king of a land not protected by any magic and so close to Dol Gudur that it has been called madness by both our Lorien and Imladris peers, I cannot tolerate anything that would take my soldiers away from their task of protecting this land.” Thranduil turned around and his blue eyes bored into her.

“I love this forest very dearly, Tauriel. This is where I married my wife, this is where Legolas was born and no matter what it takes, I do not want to uproot my son from his home just as much as I wouldn’t want to with any single one of this forest’s trees.” A short quiet settled over the room before Thranduil continued. “I have lost my home once by force and Legolas doesn’t deserve the same.” This time, their silence was even more pregnant before Tauriel nodded slowly, her voice barely a whisper.

“He certainly does not.” She confirmed. After all, she herself had lost a home, her family even, in the past. And for Legolas to go through the same, after losing his mother so young too, was certainly something Tauriel did not wish for.

“I apologize for my words, _hir-nin_. They were harsher than I realized.” The words were out of her before she even knew it. Just seeing him tend to Legolas, now changing the fabric on his forehead for the second time already, made her see just how different the king really was from the person he always pretended to be.

“No.” he replied calmly, stroking strands of Legolas’ hair out of the way. “They were perfect to stir me up from my stupor. But I certainly wish no repeat of this incident.” He clarified, turning his head just the right amount to glare at her decidedly. Tauriel nodded, bowing low in understanding.

“Of course, _hir-nin_.”

She couldn’t believe that this conversation had taken place. Just a few hours ago she thought that she might run away as soon as Legolas was better, fleeing the tightness of this place with the hate of its ruler hovering over her head. But she saw now that it wasn’t what it seemed, like so often with this royal family. In time, Thranduil would forgive her. And maybe, given time, he could unlearn to cage himself in as well.

 

* * *

 

Several hours passed until anything particular happened in the healing quarters. Legolas’ condition was still dire and he received wraps around the legs to reduce the fever more efficiently. The nurses were busy with other patients from the battle but Legolas certainly received the most care, seeing as his situation was the worst of them all. Breaking his fever had top priority and they certainly tried everything in their power.

Around midnight, the fever finally gave in. Tauriel had not sat down ever since it had started and since she also hadn’t left the room ever since, she felt exhaustion finally catching up to her. The king didn’t look much better, the worry and panic that had risen several times when Legolas’ temperature was especially high had worn him out greatly and it was showing under his eyes as well as in his composure. 

One incident had worn him out in particular. It was a fever pitch for Legolas just about an hour ago and in the heat of his dreams, he had called out for his mother. Thranduil had felt all his movements freeze, felt the blood leave his face and at the same time, all eyes in the room suddenly fled to him. They tried to look away and busy themselves as soon as he looked up but he just knew that the stare had been there. He had tried to calm himself but Legolas’ small call for ‘ _naneth_ ’ was not leaving his mind anytime soon, reminding him of his wife and the way she always cared for their son so much and the image of the small bundle of joy in the arms of his beautiful mother would not leave him alone for the rest of his life, making it impossible for him to pay attention for several moments before reality caught up to him again.

So by midnight, the king as well as Tauriel felt ready to drop right next to Legolas. But as soon as his fever broke, he showed signs of awareness and both of them were certainly not going to leave now, when he could wake up any moment. The healers had tried to make both of them leave but not even Merilthel had the power to do that right now and after several tries, even she had given up completely. They both hadn’t rested since the battle and they both really, really needed sleep but neither of them could leave the room, not knowing if Legolas would be okay. The healers said he still needed to wake up in order for them to determine the severity of the head injury.

But the waiting continued and Tauriel, leaning against the wall and still standing since Thranduil occupied the only chair and she didn’t dare to come closer yet, felt her eyes get heavier and heavier. The king suffered the same fate, sitting in a chair wasn’t really helping with the sleepiness either. Both elves felt how their lids were harder to keep open as time ticked by and the moonlight wandered through the room.

Just when Tauriel’s knees were about to give in, she jolted awake from an unexpected source.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise? You’re both in the same room.” The voice was just as pleasant to her ears as the early morning light flooding through the windows was to her eyes and it was full of weariness but also filled with hope and relief. When Tauriel’s gaze lifted and she saw what woke her, a bright smile adorned her lips. She saw how the king couldn’t believe his eyes, then immediately left the chair to lean over his child with the brightest grin the _elleth_ had ever seen on his face.

Legolas was finally awake.

Maybe, after all, she could hope things would turn for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed all of these, please leave feedback! Kudos are cool, comments are awesome :D

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Please leave a comment. This has five chapters and I will post the other ones soon :)


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